Infectious
by QueenToto
Summary: The end of the world is here and as it seems, Tony and Ziva are the only one who still are alive.


_**The show is property of Donald Bellisario, I do not own Tony or Ziva (I wish I would). **_

_**My first fanfiction. I tried my best. ^^ Set to continue. I am not the best in english grammar cause it's not my native language so bear with me please. Leave feedback I'm glad for everything. :)  
**_

A shot. Another one. She heard them again and again in her mind as a loop. A sound that became so familiar over the past few weeks. Sure it was familiar anyways, but the situation was different, a lot changed. The whole world changed around her and she definitely didn't approve. Everyone she knew and trusted was gone, her father, the director of Mossad, the man with the most power she probably knew. He knew how to manipulate people perfectly, but the force she stood against right here right now - not even the big Eli David could've stood it against. Ben-Gidon Malachi. Ziva wasn't sure if he is alright, she didn't heard from him anymore since it happened. He was tough and like Ziva – he knows how to survive on his own. But Timothy McGee probably doesn't. That little, adorable computer-geek sometimes seemed so helpless against the big world outside. He is a hell of an agent, but if he could stand up to this? She looks out the window and tries to get these thought out of her mind, she didn't got time to worry. The heat inside here was horrible, but opening the window was a risk. So she just swipes the sweat off her forehead and checked the ammo once again.

„How many do you got?", a deep voice asked her and she startled. Which is dumb, because he was the only one that was with her the last few weeks.

She always thought this only is happening in movies, gory, badly written movies with bad special effects where people got their brains eaten out by the undead. She laughed at these scenes from time to time when the effects got too hilarious and the dialouges got to trashy. In real life you don't want to talk. You just want to survive. And this is not one big special effect - that is life. Her life.

At that evening as they went out oft he office into the parking lot and he saw some weirdly walking guy torwards them. He tried talking to him, but the response was just heavy breathing. He got out his gun and threatened him, but he just got torwards them further. „Hop on.", Tony DiNozzo told her and pointed at his BMW motorcycle.

„Three Rounds here, two magazines for the Glock." Tony's face wasn't happy, they are running out of Ammo. Without some guns at hand, they are as good as helpless,relying on Ziva's fighting skills was careless, never let come one of these „people" get closer than 10 feet and blow a bullet as soon as possible in their head – that's what they suggested at the last newsflash before every broadcast went down. „The end oft he world is coming. May god be with you.", a priest says and a loop of an eagle flying in the sky and happy families running through the landscape in sunshine starts running.

„We need to find a store – soon.", Tony said and turned around and went to his motorcycle to check on it. In difference to his usual self – which was careless and happy – Tony wasn't himself anymore. He didn't talked that much like he used to, didn't joked like he used to. His movie references about _28 Weeks later_ got rare the longer they were on the run. Tony roughed up a lot, in and outside, his hair was fuzzy, he didn't shaved in four days. They didn't found razors when they raid the last store in a small town before they started to drive though this pampas. A few cans of beans and vegetables and some cured meat was the only thing they got, besides the loss of bullets in the shopkeepers head.

Ziva was worried about Tony, the less he talked, the more she wanted to cheer him up. Even when there was no reason for it. She even thought about mixing up a saying with wrong words on purpose, just to hear him speak properly, not muttering about getting food or ammo.

They were in a abandoned block house in the middle of nowhere, on the run for almost three weeks now. They never stayed longer than a night or two to avoid being attacked. „We need to start off again, you know.", Tony muttered under his breath. Ziva stood up in a rush, making Tony turn around facing her. „What?", he asked coldly.

„You changed.", Ziva said as she stood up to him, staring at him. „I am just adapting to my environment.", he said without any emotion in his voice. „And I don't like it." Tony's eyes widened. „You… don't like it?", he peeves, „ Why I'm sorry the people around us got infected with an fucking virus that makes them to brain eating monsters. I am sorry for protecting you." Ziva snapped. „No one needs to protect me!" Tony didn't left off her eyes. „Fine. Then go! Go! You are just holding me back anyways." Ziva stood in front of this man, not able to say anything. „Tony.", she whispers. He hit her right in the gut with his words. „Go!", he just muttered, turning to his bike again.

He didn't turned around anymore, not pay attention anymore to Ziva. She felt lost, not welcomed anymore, she probably got no other choice than going away, facing this all by herself. Talking to Tony would make this even worse, she don't want to have an argument with him, not in this state of him right now. So she goes, packing her stuff together, putting her gun into the holster and opens the door. "Goodbye Tony." He didn't said anything, didn't turned around. When the door closed, he let go of his bike, he didn't thought she would actually do this.

"Bye Ziva."


End file.
